Awkward
by wally-westicle
Summary: He stared at him every single day of his life. He was perfect, happy, friendly, and not at all like Tim. Tim didn't stand a chance with a guy like that. Captains of the Debate Team didn't talk to quarterbacks. No, that'd just be awkward.


who doesn't like timkon tbh?

Word Count - 1,666

* * *

"Dude, you have it so bad." Tim glanced over at friend, wrinkling his nose as he watched him take a giant bite from his slice of pizza. He sighed. He did have it bad, that much was true. It was an annoying truth Tim had already started to come to terms with. That didn't mean he needed Bart rubbing it in his face.

"The state of how bad I have it isn't really your concern, but thank you, Bart," he hissed. Bart laughed, nearly choking on his food, and Tim couldn't help but think karma truly was on his side. He smiled a bit and turned his head back in the direction of him .

He was gorgeous. Tall, tanned, meaty as **fuck** , with a hint of southern accent that made Tim swoon every time he heard him speak. Yeah, he had it bad, and damn, he wanted it bad. Conner Kent, in his humble opinion, was God's gift to Earth, and even if he wasn't religious, he was going to thank the Lord every night for such a present.

"Tim, if you want him so bad, you could say hi. It's not like you'll get killed for it." Tim turned his head quickly, catching Stephanie's smirk.

"I don't think i'll get killed for it, Steph, I just think we're in different leagues. And besides, just because i'm open to sexuality doesn't mean he is. I mean, he could be the straightest man on the planet for all I know."

"Oh no," Bart chimed in, wiping his face with the back of his hand, "he's gay. I asked. And he's totally noticed you staring." Tim's cheeks heated up, and he snapped his head in Bart's direction.

"What do you mean you asked?" Bart snorted.

"Exactly what I said, buddy. I went over to him, introduced myself, asked him what team he played on, clarified I didn't mean the football team, and got my answer. He asked me why the cute kid from the debate team always looked at him. I told him you thought he was a cutie." Tim felt immediately horrified, refusing to turn his head in the direction of Conner Kent any longer.

"Why would you do that?!"

"Because you weren't going to do it, and I can't stand to watch you make googly eyes at some guy you, for some reason, don't think you stand a chance with." Bart took another bite of his pizza while Tim took a moment to stew.

"You can't dictate my love life."

"I'm not," Bart said, swallowing, "I'm just helping jumpstart it. Oh, hey, Conner." Tim narrowed his eyes and wondered how long it would take for a migraine to actually form.

"I'm not falling for that, Bart."

"Hey Bart, hey, uh, Tim, right?" Tim's blood ran cold, and he started to calculate how fast he needed to run to get away from the school's star quarterback. He started to get up, misjudged his grip on his chair, and nearly fell. Conner caught his arm, keeping him upright and from more embarrassment than he was already feeling. He cleared his throat.

"Hello, Conner. Yeah, uh, it is Tim. Thanks for keeping me from falling on my face." He laughed a little too loudly, "I'm going to, uh, go to the library. Extra studying. Nice talking to you!" He turned on his heel and proceeded to power-walk out of the cafeteria in the direction of the library. Conner stared after him.

"He's awkward. Don't think poorly of him," Stephanie said, turning her gaze from Tim's disappearing figure to Conner. Conner chuckled, "I don't. It's okay."

* * *

When Tim got up the next morning, he wondered if he should even show up to school. He had embarrassed himself in front of the guy he had been lusting after for months, and he was sure to hear much more about it from Bart upon his arrival. He groaned and tried out a few fake coughs.

"Timothy," his mother began, coming into his room with some fresh laundry, "why are you coughing?"

"I'm sick," he tried. She laughed at him, and he sighed, sitting up and looking at her.

"Sure, sweetheart. What's the real reason?" He ran a hand through his hair, tried to figure out a good enough reason to say he was pretending, and groaned.

His mother crossed her arms at him, cocking her hip and staring at him in a way that told him she wasn't going to wait forever for him to get over his internal crisis. He groaned again, running his hands all over his face dramatically. She rolled her eyes.

"Is it over a crush? What, did you embarrass yourself?" He stared at her incredulously, jaw dropped in surprise. She laughed.

"Timothy, how do you think I met your father? He has as much charm as you do." Tim scoffed at her. How dare she insinuate he had no charm and be correct about it? Who did she think she was? His mother?

Oh, wait. She was his mother. That was why she was trying to help him through this time of utter turmoil. He crashed back down on his bed, rolling over and shoving his face into his pillow. He felt the bed dip under the weight of his mother sitting down.

"Son, whatever you did, i'm sure it wasn't that bad. If you absolutely feel like you can't make it through school today, stay home and figure something out. I have to get myself and your father to work. If you stay home, clean up any mess you make, okay? I love you." She got up and kissed the back of his head, set the laundry down, and left. Tim let out a sigh, turned back over, and stared at the ceiling.

He knew his mother had no intentions of making him feel guilty for missing school, and he knew it wasn't like he missed a lot of school, but he felt like absolute shit. There wasn't exactly a pertinent reason for him to miss. He dragged himself out of bed, put on some clean clothes, and went downstairs for breakfast.

* * *

Tim had made it through the school day successfully without embarrassing himself any further. In fact, he had made it through the day without seeing Conner. He wondered briefly if Conner was even at school today or if something had happened.

"Tim! Timborine! Wait up!" Tim stopped moving and turned around. Bart skid to a halt in front of him, panting lightly from the exertion.

"Tim, dude, you need to go to the library." He raised a brow at his friend.

"Why?"

"Don't ask me why, man, just go to the library." Tim sighed, hefted his backpack on his shoulder, and started in the direction of the library. Bart blinked at him.

"You're actually going?"

"You told me to." he replied. Bart sputtered a bit, racing after him until he could fall in step.

"Yeah, but you never listen!"

"Anything to humor you, Bart." He pulled the handle of the door to the library, went inside, and then looked at Bart. Well, he would have looked at Bart if he were still there.

The door behind him closed, and he started to see he had been set up. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, started a text to Steph asking her to please get him out of this situation before his phone was taken from him. He looked up, ready to put up some sort of fight with whoever, and quickly deflated.

"Hey, Tim. This was the only way I thought i'd be able to talk to you." Tim swallowed thickly, letting his hand fall limply to his side. He wished he had brought it full force at his face so he could smack himself and wake from this nightmare, but he figured with his kind of luck, it wouldn't work that way for him anyhow.

"Conner- Uh...Hey. Yeah...What's up? Did you need something?" If he played it nonchalant, nothing bad would happen to him, right?

"Yeah, actually. I need your phone number and a time." Tim looked at him, arched an eyebrow, and told himself not to sputter.

"Excuse me?"

"Your phone number. So I can text you. And a time. For our date." Tim couldn't help but sputter this time. Right in Conner's perfect face. Oh god, he'd never forgive himself if he accidentally ended up spitting on him.

"What date?"

"The one i'm asking you on right now." Conner laughed and Tim thought he was going to die. \

"When?"

"Tonight." Tim breathed out slowly and reminded himself that normal people went out on dates all the time, and he needed to learn to live a little.

"Okay. Six. Six is a good time." Conner grinned at him.

"Cool. We'll catch a movie." Tim nodded, took his phone back, and gave Conner his number.

In an attempt to not create anymore anxiety within himself, Tim adverted his eyes, trying to find a reason his shoes were much more interesting than the incredibly hot boy standing right in front of him. He found it difficult and decided to look back up at Conner. His eyes stopped, fixated on Conner's pants.

"Conner?"

"Yeah?" Tim looked at him.

"Why are there flowers in your pocket?" Conner looked at his pants, chuckled nervously, and turned his attention to the bookshelf his hand was resting on.

"Uh...Okay, honestly? I got them for you, and then Bart told me it was a stupid idea, so I stuffed them in my pockets thinking that was the acceptable way to get rid of them. I don't really know what I was thinking." Tim laughed. He really laughed, calming down only when his breathless fit caused him to snort. Conner flushed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"That's really sweet, actually. I- Thank you. Really." Conner grinned at him, chuckling.

"I'll get rid of them before our date."

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea."


End file.
